They Returned with Haunted Faces
by Kandragon
Summary: After the War of the Last Alliance, a war-torn army returns to a grief-stricken people. Will Thranduil and his betrothed find the strength to heal their broken kingdom? Or will their own heartache make this burden impossible to bare? Thranduil/OC; early Third Age.
A/N: Some at the end (particularly a _why_ we see Ellith acting in certain ways in this story), but for now, a simple disclaimer: I, obviously, don't own LotRs or any other works by Tolkien. I just play with them sometimes like a child building castles in the sand…

000

Speckled sunlight fell on the Ellith heads as they walked, their bare feet wading through the dew-brushed grass of the woods outside of their capital in Emyn Duir. Noon had passed, and the hour was growing late, yet theirs was a simple task. They had come to this meadow to forage for berries, fruit, and herbs. As they worked, the Ellith spoke of their husbands, brothers, and fathers, and how they missed them, but more importantly, they conversed about the tasks that laid upon their shoulders now that the Ellyn had gone off to war.

"Did you hear?" asked a comely Elleth, she carried a woven basket in her arms, "Candeth and her hunters took down sixteen deer?"

"She did, Faenen?" Her dark-haired friend asked, she was crouched down, picking berries from a thorn-covered shrub.

Some of the Ellith nearby the pair giggled.

"Yes, Ivreniel," said another of their number, joining the two Ellith. She wore her silver hair in delicate braids, and smiled at her friends. Most of the Silvan called her Nell, and she preferred that name, finding it more suiting than Bainell, the name her parents had chosen for her. She had never felt particularly like a beautiful bell, but she had long ago accepted that her voice did, at times, sound like one. At her words, Faenen placed a hand on hip. Ivreniel tilted her head in bemusement; her springy, yellow hair becoming tangled with the shrub's branches. She huffed in annoyance, a few strands coming free as she escaped the shrub's briers.

"Candeth hunts as well as any Ellon," said the third Elleth, "Better, in fact, than many I have known."

"Is that so?" Ivreniel asked, dropping a handful of berries into Faenen's basket. "That is well, I suppose…"

Ivreniel bent over again, moving over to another shrub and started to deprive that one of berries as well. With a sigh, the silver-haired Elleth joined her.

"Indeed it is!" said Nell. "Ivreniel, are you so distracted by your hammer and anvil these days you cannot listen to what the _rest_ of us have accomplished?"

"I…just find it odd that they might see it as an _accomplishment_ ," she said, "forging blade, spade, hinge, and horseshoe is _not_ what I wish to be doing, Nell."

In response, Nell frowned, eyeing Ivreniel with her remarkably cold stare.

"I was not born to do my father's work!" Ivreniel stood, then shook her head. "I did not wed just to run a smithy and forge metal."

"And what children would you have, given this current darkness?" Nell asked, bitterness painting her words. "It has been nearly two decades since any Elleth in Greenwood has been with child, why…"

"Stop," Ivreniel whispered.

"No, listen." Nell also stood; she placed the back of her hands on her hips. "Is it not better to spend our days tending the fields, out hunting, or in the smithy, then hoping for children who cannot come or caring for a house where none but us sit at the table? I would rather heal the injured than sew or clean or…—"

"Bainell…"

At the sound of her full name, Nell coughed, then glanced over her shoulder. Another Ellith had approached them, leaning against the bark of a strong, oak tree. Her brown hair cascaded down her back in soft curls, and on her head rested a circlet of spun silver. It was Minuial, Prince Thranduil's betrothed, and Nell's good friend. In the king's and prince's absence, she had taken on the royal duties upon her frail shoulders, only one of the king's advisors, Saeltur, and a few of the elders had remained.

Oftentimes, Nell questioned how the small Sinda could bare it. _Sometimes,_ Nell thought, _she cannot_. Candeth had pushed Minuial into allowing her to hunt 'for the sake of the kingdom', as well as to establish a makeshift guard. Worse still, Minuial's hands still trembled whenever she had to speak to her people, making Nell wonder _what_ might happen when Oropher's army finally returned, and Minuial found herself speaking to both Ellith and Ellon.

It probably wouldn't go over well.

Nell knew she was not alone in such sentiments, but compared to how others viewed her friend—seeing Minuial as the peculiar, foreign Sinda from Eregion, and not as an Elf who had been in Greenwood for nearly seventeen-hundred years—Nell knew her opinions of Minuial and her leadership abilities were kind. Many still wished Thranduil had chosen a Silvan maid for his future spouse, some of Nell's folk resented him for it, and the last fifteen years had not, necessarily, helped matters much.

All three Ellith bowed their heads, however. At least Faenen and Ivreniel weren't the kind of Ellith to disrespect Minuial's position where others could overhear, even though they were among those whom did not think she should have it.

"Bainell, must you darken this day with such dreary thoughts?" Minuial asked, her small form engulfed by her simple, green cloak.

"Yet they are truthful words, Lady Minuial," Nell replied.

"That may be," said Minuial, sadness buried deep within her grey eyes and painting the edges of her words, "but we do not need to remind ourselves, _constantly_ , that things are not as they ought to be."

"Minuial…"

But before Nell could speak, Minuial had left them, strolling towards another group of Ellith on the other side of the grassy meadow. Nell, however, followed, leaving Faenen and Ivreniel to chatter about Faenen's horses and the last dress she had sewn; the other two Ellith moved on, picking berries from another cluster of shrubs at the edges of the forest meadow. Before Minuial reached the distant group of Ellith, however, Nell placed a hand on her shoulder, causing the frail Elleth to jump, slightly. She slowly swiveled around, then looked up at the taller Elleth, a scowl gracing her round face.

"It's not like you to startled so easily," Nell said, "Minuial, what is it?"

Minuial closed her eyes. "Do you hear the trees, Nell?"

"Always." Nell tilted her head.

"Heed them," she said, looking back at her friend, "listen closely."

Nell quieted her mind. The truth was, while some Silvan could nearly hear the thoughts of trees and plants, few could understand their words. Speaking with them like one conversed with Ents or Entwives—if the old tales were true—was a rare gift even amongst her folk. The king and his line could speak with the trees of Greenwood, but that was because they were the rulers of the forest, she was only a simple Elleth, one without that much talent in this particular area.

Yet, today…the trees whispered so loud it was nearly deafening. Why did the other Ellith not notice? Perhaps they had blocked them out, like any other 'distraction', she frowned. _Sadness…loss…and grief…_ she thought, _but tinged with joy...?_

Nell trembled, then meant Minuial's gaze. The Sinda nodded, her eyes flickering with joy, worry, and sorrow. Her thoughts were plainly written on her face, she was thinking of Prince Thranduil…and perhaps, of the army his father had led to war some fifteen years ago. In the time since, they had had hardly heard a whisper of their Ellyn…but now…

Nell felt a wave of excitement, though it barely touched her lips. Now, perhaps, the Ellyn had, at long last, returned to them.

"Will you ride with me to greet them?" asked Minuial, her gaze, hard, set south towards Mordor.

"Yes, milady," Nell replied, more than glad to leave the meadow and the utter boredom it represented behind.

They left without a word to the other Ellyth. _That,_ Nell thought, _may not have been the best choice, when she returns, what new rumors might spring?_

000

As dusk descended on Greenwood the Great, the two Ellith left the king's capital nestled in the broad, shallow vale between Emyn Duir's two greatest mountains.* Due to their haste, only a small escort accompanied them, mostly made up of Ellith whom had taken up sword, knife, and bow while their male kith and kin fought the forces of Sauron in Mordor.

Minuial paid little mind to their escort of Ellith guards. Over the winding, dirt road twisting through the thick forest, she forced her steed to gallop south as fast as she could. Hours ago, her hair had escaped its bun, now, it flew wildly behind her. Minuial hardly noticed, however. In her ears, her heart beat so loudly, so erratically she could hear it above the clatter of their horses' hooves. Even still, she focused on the road ahead, looking for any signs of the things that the trees whispered about, of the fear and heartbreak she had heard on the tips of their branches, which dragged their ancient boughs down in despair.

 _It's only I, casting my own sorrows upon them_ , Minuial thought.No trees in Greenwood moved like those in the forests of old, nor were they as old or as wise. _And yet…it seems their branches are closer to the road than before._

"Minuial," one of her guards said. Most of her armor was made of sturdy leather and a chainmail shirt, but on her torso and shoulders, she wore steel plate forged by Ivreniel. It was no more beautiful than the light armor worn by Oropher's soldiers, and only more feminine where it needed to be. Practical, just like her. She was the makeshift captain of the Ellith whom now patrolled their borders. The Elleth continued, "While it is not my place to question your actions…"

"Please, speak your mind, Candeth," Minuial said, she slowed down her steed with a whispered command, allowing the dark-haired Elleth to ride beside her as they continued on at a slow canter. It amazed her Candeth have been so…polite.

"Why do we tread so quickly?"

"I…we…uh…" she stuttered, then swallowed, hard.

"We are checking to see what has troubled the trees," Nell answered, 'saving' her from further embarrassment. Minuial sighed. Trust Nell to be blunt about it, but leave out the most important details. In some ways, Nell was similar to certain Ellyn she had once known… "They're sad…"

Candeth gave them a half-smile. "They miss _their_ king, _their_ prince, and _our_ Ellyn. Milady, your yearning to see your betrothed again, while understandable, is an abysmal reason to project your emotions on the trees. Worse, to drag us off when—"

Candeth paused, her mouth dropping slightly, then she clamped it shut. The faint sound of marching feet reached their ears, echoing through the trees, and up the road that wove between their trunks and beneath their branches. Minuial raised a hand, signaling them to march forward, Candeth and her guard falling behind Nell and herself. Their steeds trotted on in silence.

A victorious army, Minuial knew, sung songs of victory and chattered upon their return. Yet, as they drew closer, no songs reached their ears, no male voices filled forest around them. The woods felt dead, too silent, despite the sounds of nighttime birdsong above their heads and horse hooves pounding the dirt beneath them. The reek of blood, grime, and sweat reached her nose long before she spotted the army. All of this filled her soul with dread and worry.

 _Thranduil…,_ Minuial thought, _you vowed to me you would return…_

Could any Ellon make good on a promise to return when they went to war against a monster like Sauron? She was not the only Elleth to receive such a pledge, what right did she have to expect that he could keep his word? Who was she, that Eru would favor her with the return of her beloved?

 _And will I know him if he comes back?_

That was the other thing Minuial dreaded. Many an Ellon changed after going off to war. She had seen it in Eregion, witnessed it firsthand when the Elves of that land fought Sauron after he had tricked Celebrimbor with his 'help'. Only one of her brothers had come back whole; the other had returned missing a leg. The third had lost his sight. All three were irreversibly changed, they had not come with them when her father led their group of Sindar refugees to Greenwood. As she had witness whilst watching over the kingdom in Oropher's and Thranduil's absence, many Ellith had changed too. She had taken up the duties of the crown-prince's wife before they had a chance to wed. Nell had become bitter, burdened with the responsibilities of the Kingdom's chief healer. Others, like Faenen, Ivreniel, and Candeth, had taken on the roles their husbands had left behind.

The war had changed them all.

The band of Ellith came upon a shallow stream and waded across it, then, made a sharp turn, climbing a steep slope. On one side of the road, the trees and plants grew at a slant, climbing the hillside, the other side was bordered by a rocky ledge. When they crested the hill, she finally spotted Oropher's army marching up the hill. Turning her head, she meant Candeth's eyes, giving her a wordless plea. In response, Candeth nodded, raising one hand. On the hill's apex, the Ellith came to a stop, horse and Ellith studying the Elves in the moonlit dale below.

Each Ellon was coated in soot and scars. Their clothes, covered in bloodstains. Their faces, grime; their eyes, haunted. But worse of all, their numbers were few. Oropher had led a vast host of Silvan Elves into that awful, distant conflict, the cheers of those left behind at their heels as the Silvan host marched to war. Now, only a few thousand of their number remained; like greyed, weary spirits, marching up to the Mandos' Halls.

Yet, leading them onward, donned in a suit of dented steel, was Thranduil, tall, and brilliant as the Sun, even though his long, golden hair was plastered with dried mud. At the sight of her betrothed, Minuial's heart caught in her throat. Upon his brow, he wore a single diamond hanging from a silver circlet, and behind him, an ellon carried the banner of his house: Oropher's beech tree on a field of green, flapping in the wind.

When Thranduil spotted the Ellith upon the hill, he rose one hand and lowered it in silence, beckoning the remnants of Oropher's great army to come to a halt. For moments which felt like centuries, a chilled silence descended upon the Elves; even the forest, and the creatures within, it acceded to its pervasive presence.

The telltale clout of soft hoof-beats on the old, dirt road shattered that stillness, resonating throughout the quiet woods. On horseback, Minuial approached Thranduil and his soldiers, crossing the chasm between Ellith and Ellyn. When the horse and its rider reached them, she directed her steed to veer left then stop at Thranduil's side.

"Thranduil…?" asked she.

He lifted his head, turning it aside so that the Ellyn could not see his face clearly. In the moonlight, tears glistened in his bright, blue eyes. It was the first time she had seen him in suffer from such terrible, heart wrenching grief. And yet…for her, he allowed a smile to touch the corners of his lips.

"It is good," said he, taking her slender hand in his rough, callused hands, "to see a beautiful face after so many years surrounded, _always_ , by the ugly faces and horrid stench of both Ellyn and Men."

She returned his gentle smile with one of her own. "Why must you always make jests, Thranduil?"

"Because you are crying, Min," he answered.

Minuial rubbed her other forearm against her eyes, then stared mutely at the tearstained sleeve.

"We _won_ ," Thranduil declared in a low voice.

She gasped, a little. She…she hadn't expected that. When she had seen the condition of his soldiers and their prince, she had mentally prepared for the worst. _But there's too few. Even with the Enemy defeated, how can he call this a victory?_

Minuial studied him, searching his face for the answers she sought…and the _right_ questions. Still ageless and without blemish, he somehow looked tired, older, more prone to cares and burdens. As though the war had not just stolen so many of their kith and kin, it had also taken any last remnant of youth which he had still possessed.

After blinking back more tears, Minuial studied the other Ellyn. Greyed and battered, and so few. They came home with haunted faces. Yet, she saw something hidden in their grief-stricken gazes. Buried beneath grief, she perceived both joy and hope. These were Ellyn whom were glad to be home. How could she welcome them back with tears?

"But…"

He kissed her hand, looking into her eyes. His gaze beseeched her to remain silent. To ask, but do so later. It promised that they, at least, still had the time.

 _Unlike so many others…_

"Stay firm, Minuial," he said, his fingers curling up into her palm, then he added in a whisper, "In the days ahead, our people will need _us_ both to be strong."

For a brief moment, his face bore a pained expression, and his gaze caste to the ground below. She now understood, though the news remained unspoken. Oropher had gone to the Halls of Mandos, but the prince, not yet crowned king in the Silvan fashion, did not wish to speak of his grief, his own sorrow. He could not, Minuial realized, at least not now. The Silvan would now look to him for leadership, for guidance, for stability.

For hope. When those who had remained in the kingdom found out that only a remnant had returned…they would all need his strength.

 _But they will not just look to him for those things_ , she thought. Ice ran down her spine, making her shiver. _They will look_ _to us. To…me._

She would no longer marry the Silvan's prince; she would wed their king.

That thought terrified her. She was not all that _good_ at leadership. She knew that. Saeltur's tired glances and heavy sighs were ongoing signs of the advisor's disapproval of some of her choices. Though he was longsuffering, she was certain his patience with her was beginning to fray. A small part of her wished to flee, to cross the Misty Mountains and settle in Imladris or perhaps, even Lindon, where she might catch the song of the seagulls and cross the Great Sea.

Yet she could not, Minuial decided, allow Thranduil to bare his burdens alone. She would be brave, for his sake.

 _Even a frail woman,_ Minuial thought, _can take part of a heavy burden._

000

* Emyn Duir: As mentioned in the _Unfinished Tales_ , they were the mountains in northern Greenwood where Oropher settled after he abandoned Amon Lanc. I personally think that happened around the same time that the Elves of Eregion fought the forces of Sauron (in the Sack of Eregion, 1695-97 SA; part of the War of the Elves and Sauron 1693-1701), not just because he was mad at Galadrial for settling in Lothlorien. Oropher may not have liked her, but he lived in Doriath while she did; thus, I find that fleeing from a war makes a lot more sense. Oropher abandoned Amon Lanc to protect his people, because he, like Thranduil, was a good king.

A/N: In most war-torn societies, especially ones where most of their men are far from home for a long time (the War of the Last Alliance took about fifteen years to complete, and Oropher took most of his realm's Ellyn with him, even Galion probably wasn't spared), women often had to take up the roles that men had performed for their society to function. This doesn't mean these changes were permanent, but it did often cause interesting changes (women as nurses and office workers were, in fact, some of the eventual results of the American Civil War). Thus, it's only reasonable to assume that even Elves—especially the Silvan of Greenwood—face these same consequences…

Also, there IS actually a reason that Glorfindel is listed as a character. He'll be in the next chapter. Hehehe. I'm not sure how well-written this…errr…relationship is, I'm sure at least someone will claim that Minuial is a Sue (because one chapter makes a Sue, obviously). But for those who made it to the end, thank you for staying put!


End file.
